
FT MEADE 

GenCol 1 






k 


fM 


-r , - c^» ■ ^ ’, 

i 

r^g s 


wL. MFM fcjW ; 

HM 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. KZ^Copyright Ko. 

Shelf. Y <k£? Li, 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


























































-* • *■* r 




















. 

. 






































































































































































































































































































































































































“AND FROM THAT HOUR THEY WERE FAST FRIENDS 




LIVES OF 
TWO CATS 


From the French of Pierre Loti 


TRANSLATION BY M. B. RICHARDS 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. E. ALLEN 



BOSTON 

U 


1900 


QI-29V** r-2^L 

jjL Of OorKnvaesl 

! Kfe(t.; / E0 

' NOV 10 1900 

Copyright entry 

<xa t 

: Kc Q, c .0> J>, 

1 SECOND COPY. 

Ot"‘iv©red to 

Os^OtH DIVISION, 

_N0V_ 23 1900 


_ \0 


\y 


COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY M. B. RICHARDS 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


STfjc Btfcersftw Press 

Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton &> Co. 
Cambridge , Mass., U.S. A. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

* And from that hour they were fast 
friends” (page 50) . Frontispiece 


‘ Rolling on the crimson rug * * . . . 10 

‘ Advancing, . . . her clear eyes fixed 

on mine 99 16 


‘ And still looked directly in my eyes * * . 22 

‘ She passed deliciously dreamy days ** . 48 
‘ There was a useless battle ” . . . . 70 
« In company of the everlasting tortoise 99 . 76 
« I was glad . . . that she had not died 

elsewhere 99 90 




LIVES OF 

TWO CATS 




Lives of Two Cats 


* ( i ) * 

I HAVE often seen, with a questioning 
restlessness infinitely sad, the soul of 
animals meet mine from the depths of their 
eyes : the soul of a cat, the soul of a dog, 
the soul of a monkey, as pathetically, for 
an instant, as a human soul, revealing itself 
suddenly in a glance and seeking my own 
soul with tenderness, supplication, or terror ; 
and I have felt perhaps more pity for these 
souls of animals than for those of my own 
brethren, because they are speechless, in- 
capable of emerging from their semi-intelli- 
gence; above all, because they are more 
humble and despised. 


3 


LIVES 


O F 


♦(II)* 


HE two cats whose histories I am 



A about to write are associated in mem- 
ory with comparatively happy years of my 
life, — years scarce past by the dates they 
bear, but years already seeming in the re- 
mote past, borne away by the frightfully 
accelerating speed of time, and which, 
placed beside the gray to-day, bear tints of 
early dawn or last rosy light of morning. 
So fast our days hasten to the twilight, so 
fast our fall to the night. 


4 


TWO 


CATS 


'*( 111 )'* 

P ARDON me that I call each of my 
cats Pussy. At first I had no idea 
of giving names to my pets. A cat was 
M Pussy,” a kitten “ Kitty ; ” and surely no 
names could be more expressive and tender 
than these. I shall call the poor little per- 
sonages of my story by the names they bore 
in their real lives, Pussy White and Pussy 
Gray; the latter often known as Pussy 
Chinese. 


5 


LIVES 


O F 


•(IV)* 

A S the oldest, allow me first to present 
the Angora, Pussy White. Her 
visiting card, by her desire, was thus in- 
scribed — 


MADAME MOUMOUTTE BLANCHE 
Premiere chatte 
Chez M. Pierre Loti. 


On a memorable evening nearly twelve 
years ago, I saw her for the first time. It 
was a winter’s evening, on one of my re- 
turns home at the close of some Eastern 
campaign. I had been in the house but 
a few moments, and was warming myself 
6 


TWO 


CATS 


before a blazing wood fire, seated between 
my mother and my aunt Clara. Suddenly 
something appeared on the scene, bounding 
like a panther, and then rolling itself wildly 
on the hearth rug like a live snowball on 
its crimson ground. M Ah ! ” said aunt 
Clara, “ you don’t know her ; I will in- 
troduce her ; this is our new inmate, Pussy 
White! We thought we would have an- 
other cat, for a mouse had found our closet 
in the saloon below.” 

The house had been catless for a long 
time ; succeeding the mourning for a cer- 
tain African cat that I had brought home 
from my first voyage and worshiped for 
two years, but who one fine morning, after 
a short illness, breathed out her little for- 
eign soul, giving me her last conscious 
glance, and whom I had afterward buried 
beneath a tree in the garden. 

I lifted for a closer view the roll of fur 
which lay so white on the crimson mat. 
I held her carefully with both hands, in a 

7 


LIVES 


O F 


position cats immediately comprehend, and 
say to themselves, w Here is a man who 
understands us; his caresses we can grate- 
fully condescend to receive.” 

The face of the new cat was very pre- 
possessing. The young, brilliant eyes, the 
tip of a pink nose, and all else lost in a 
mass of silken Angora fur; white, warm, 
clean, exquisite to fondle and caress. Be- 
sides, she was marked nearly like her pre- 
decessor from Senegal, which fact probably 
decided the selection of my mother and 
aunt Clara, — to the end that I might 
finally regard the two as one, in my some- 
what fickle affections. Above the cat’s 
ears, a capote shaped spot, jet black in 
color, was set straight, forming a band over 
the bright eyes ; another and larger spot, 
shaped like a cape, lay over her shoulders ; 
a plumy black tail, moving like a superb 
train or an animated fly-brush, completed 
the costume. Her breast, belly, and paws 
were white as the down of a swan ; her 
8 


TWO 


CATS 


ct total ” gave me the impression of a ball 
of animated fur; light, soft, and moved 
by some capricious hidden spring. After 
making my acquaintance, Pussy White left 
my arms to recommence her play. And in 
these first moments of arrival, inevitably 
melancholy, because they marked another 
epoch in my life, the new black and white 
cat obliged me to busy my thoughts with 
her, jumping on my knee to reiterate my 
welcome, or stretching herself with feigned 
weariness on the floor, that I might better 
admire the silken whiteness of her belly 
and neck. So she gambolled, the new cat, 
while my eyes rested with tender remem- 
brances on the two dear faces which smiled 
on me, somewhat aged and framed in 
grayer curls ; upon the family portraits 
which preserved their expression and age 
in their frames upon the walls ; upon the 
thousand objects seen in their accustomed 
places ; upon the well known furniture of 
this hereditary dwelling immovably fixed 

9 


LIVES 


O F 


there, while my unquiet, restless, changing 
being had roamed over a changing world. 

And this is the persistent, distinct image 
of our Pussy White, with me still, long 
after her death : an embodied frolic in fur, 
snowy white and bounding or rolling on 
the crimson rug between the sombre black 
robes of my mother and aunt Clara, in the 
evening of one of my great returns. 

Poor Pussy ! During the first winter 
of her life she was usually the familiar 
demon, the hearthstone imp, who enlivened 
the loneliness of the blessed guardians of 
my home, my mother and aunt Clara. 
While I sailed over distant seas, when the 
house resumed its grand emptiness, in som- 
bre twilights and interminable December 
nights, she was their constant attendant, 
though often their tormentor $ leaving upon 
their immaculate black gowns, precisely 
alike, tufts of her white fur. With reck- 
less indiscretion she took forcible posses- 
sion of a place on their laps, their work 
io 








TWO 


CATS 


table, or in the centre of their work baskets, 
tangling beyond rearrangement their skeins 
of wool, their reels of silk. Then they 
would say with great pretense of anger, 
meanwhile longing to laugh, “ Oh ! that 
cat, that bad cat, she will never learn how 
to behave herself! Get out, miss ! Get 
out! Were there ever such actions as 
these ! ” They busied themselves invent- 
ing methods for her amusement, even to 
keeping a jumping-jack, a ludicrous wooden 
toy, for her special edification. 

She loved them cattishly, with indocility, 
but added thereto a touching constancy, for 
which alone her little incomplete and fan- 
tastic existence merits my lasting remem- 
brance. 

In springtime, when the March sun be- 
gan to brighten our courtyard, she experi- 
enced new and endless surprises in seeing, 
awake and crawling from his winter retreat, 
our tortoise Suleima, her fellow resident 
and friend. 


1 1 


LIVES 


O F 


During the beautiful month of May she 
seemed seized by yearnings for space and 
freedom ; then she made excursions on the 
walls, the roof, through the lanes, in the 
neighboring gardens, and even nocturnal ab- 
sences, which I should here state were un- 
accountable in the austere circle where fate 
had placed her. 

In summer she was languid as a cre- 
ole. For entire days she lay lazily in the 
sunshine on the old wall top among the 
honeysuckles and roses, or, extended on 
the tiled walks, turned her white belly to 
the sun amidst the pots of red or golden 
cacti. 

Extremely careful of her little person, 
always neat, correct, aristocratic, even to 
the ends of her toes, she was haughtily dis- 
dainful of other cats, and conducted herself 
as if ill bred if any neighbor cat called on 
her. In this courtyard, which she consid- 
ered her own domain, she conceded no 
right of entry. If, above the adjoining 
12 


TWO 


CATS 


garden wall, two ear tips, a cat’s nose, rose 
timidly, or if something stirred in the vines 
or moss, she upsprang like a young fury, 
bristling angrily to the tip of her tail, im- 
possible to restrain, quite beside herself! 
Cries in harsh tones and bad taste fol- 
lowed, struggles, blows, and savage claw- 
ings. 

In fact, our pet was ferociously inde- 
pendent. She was also extremely affec- 
tionate when so inclined, caressing, cajoling, 
uttering so gentle a cry of joy, a tremu- 
lous w miaou ” every time she returned 
from one of her vagabond tramps in the 
vicinity. 

She was then five years old, in the ma- 
ture beauty of an Angora, with superb atti- 
tudes of dignity and the graces of a queen. 
I had become much attached to her in the 
course of my absences and returns, con- 
sidering her one of our home treasures, 
when there appeared on the scene — three 
thousand miles afar in the Gulf of Pe- 

13 


LIVES 


O F 


kin, and of a far less distinguished family 
than the Angoras — the kitten destined to 
become her inseparable friend, the most 
unique little personage I have yet known, 
“ Pussy Gray ” or u Pussy Chinese.” 


H 


TWO 


CATS 


*( V)* 


MADAME MOUMOUTTE CHINOISE 
Deuxieme chatte 
Chez M. Pierre Loti. 


M OST singular was the destiny which 
united to me this cat of the yellow 
race, progeny of obscure parentage and 
destitute of all beauty. 

It was at the close of our last foreign 
war, one of those evenings of revelry which 
often occurred at that time. I know not 
how the little distraught creature, driven 
from some wrecked junk or sampan, came 
on board our warship, in great terror, seek- 

15 


LIVES 


O F 


ing a refuge in my cabin beneath my berth. 
She was young, not half grown, thin and 
melancholy, having doubtless, like her rela- 
tives and masters, subsisted meanly on 
fishes’ heads with a bit of cooked rice. I 
pitied her much and bade my servant give 
her food and drink. 

With an unmistakable air of humility 
and gratitude she accepted my kindness, — 
and I can see her now, creeping slowly 
toward the unhoped-for repast, advancing 
first one foot, then another, her clear eyes 
fixed on mine to assure herself that she 
was not deceived, that it was really intended 
for her. 

In the morning I wished to turn her 
away. After giving her a farewell break- 
fast, I clapped my hands loudly, and stamp- 
ing both feet together by way of emphasis, 
I said in a harsh tone, M Get out, go away, 
little Kitty ! ” 

But no, she did not go, the little pagan. 
Evidently she felt no fear of me, intuitively 
16 









TWO 


CATS 


certain that all this angry noise was a pre- 
tense. With an air that seemed to say, 
u I know veiy well that you will not harm 
me,” she crouched silently in the corner, 
lying close to the floor in a supplicating 
attitude, fixing upon me two dilated eyes, 
alight with a human look that I have never 
seen except in hers. 

What could I do ? Impossible to domi- 
cile a cat in the contracted cabin of a war- 
ship. Besides, she was such a distressingly 
homely little creature, what an encumbrance 
by and by ! 

Then I lifted her carefully to my neck, 
saying to her, 41 I am very sorry, Kitty ; ” 
but I carried her resolutely the length of 
the deck, to the further end of the battery, 
to the sailors’ quarters, who usually are 
both fond of and kind to cats of whatever 
age or pedigree. 

Flattened close to the deck, her head im- 
ploringly turned towards me, she gave me 
one beseeching look ; then rose and fled 

1 7 


LIVES 


O F 


with a queer and swift gait in the direction 
of my cabin, where she arrived first in the 
race between us ; when I entered I found 
her crouched obstinately in the corner 
from which I had taken her, with an ex- 
pression, a remonstrance in her golden 
eyes, that deprived me of all courage to 
again take her away. And this is the way 
by which Pussy Chinese chose me for her 
owner and protector. 

My servant, evidently on her side from 
the debut of the contest, completed im- 
mediate preparations for her installment 
in my cabin, by placing beneath my bed a 
lined basket for her bed, and one of my 
large Chinese bowls, very practically filled 
with sand; an arrangement which froze 
me with fright. 


18 


TWO 


CATS 


*( VI )* 


D AY and night she lived for seven 
months in the dim light and un- 
ceasing movement of my cabin, and grad- 
ually an intimacy was established between 
us, simultaneously with a faculty of mutual 
comprehension very rare between man and 
animal. 

I recall the first day when our relations 
became truly affectionate. We were far 
out in the Yellow Sea, in gloomy Septem- 
ber weather. The first autumnal fogs had 
gathered over the suddenly cooled and rest- 
less waters. In these latitudes cold and 
cloud come suddenly, bringing to us Euro- 

19 


LIVES 


O F 


pean voyagers a sadness whose intensity is 
proportioned to our distance from home. 
We were steaming eastward against a long 
swell which had arisen, and rocked in dis- 
mal monotony to the plaintive groans and 
creakings of the ship. It had become 
necessary to close my port, and the cabin 
received its sole light through the thick 
bull’s-eye, past which the crests of the waves 
swept in green translucency, making inter- 
mittent obscurity. I had seated myself to 
write at the little sliding table, the same in 
all our cabins on board, — during one of 
those rare moments, when our service al- 
lows a complete freedom and peace, and 
when the longing comes to be alone as in 
a cloister. 

Pussy Gray had lived under my berth for 
nearly two weeks. She had behaved with 
great circumspection; melancholy, showing 
herself seldom, keeping in darkest corners as 
if suffering from homesickness and pining 
for the land to which there was no return. 


20 


TWO 


CATS 


Suddenly she came forth from the shad- 
ows, stretched herself leisurely, as if giving 
time for farther reflection, then moved 
towards me, still hesitating with abrupt 
stops; at times affecting a peculiarly Chi- 
nese gesture, she raised a fore paw, holding 
it in the air some seconds before deciding 
to make another advancing step ; and all 
this time her eyes were fixed on mine with 
infinite solicitude. 

What did she want of me ? She was 
evidently not hungry : suitable food was 
given her by my servant twice daily. What 
then could it be ? 

When she was sufficiently near to touch 
my leg, she sat down, curled her tail about 
her, and uttered a very low mew; and 
still looked directly in my eyes, as if 
they could communicate with hers, which 
showed a world of intelligent conception in 
her little brain. She must first have learned, 
like other superior animals, that I was not 
a thing, but a thinking being, capable of 

21 


LIVES 


O F 


pity and influenced by the mute appeal of 
a look ; besides, she felt that my eyes were 
for her eyes, that they were mirrors, where 
her little soul sought anxiously to seize a 
reflection of mine. Truly they are star- 
tlingly near us, when we reflect upon it, 
animals capable of such inferences. 

As to myself, I studied for the first time 
the little visitor who for two weeks had 
shared my lodging : she was fawn-colored 
like a wild rabbit, mottled with darker 
spots like a tiger, her nose and neck were 
white ; homely in effect, mainly conse- 
quent on her extremely thin and sickly 
condition, and really more odd looking than 
homely to a man freed like myself from all 
conventional ideas of beauty. Besides, she 
was quite unlike our French cats : low on 
the legs, very long bodied, a tail of unusual 
length, large upright ears, and a triangular 
face ; all her charm was in the eyes, raised 
at the outer corners like all eyes of the 
extreme Orient, of a fine golden yellow 


22 



AND STILL LOOKED DIRECTLY IN MY EYES 






TWO 


CATS 


instead of green, and ever changing, aston- 
ishingly expressive. 

While examining her, I laid my hand 
gently upon her queer little head, stroking 
the brown fur in a first caress. 

Whatever she experienced was an emo- 
tion beyond mere physical pleasure ; she felt 
the sentiment of a protection, a pity for her 
condition of an abandoned foundling. This, 
then, was why she came out of her retreat, 
poor Pussy Gray; this was why she resolved, 
after so much hesitation, to beg from me 
not food or drink, but, for the solace of her 
lonely cat soul, a little friendly company 
and interest. 

Where had she learned to know that, 
this miserable outcast, never stroked by a 
kind hand, never loved by any one, — if not 
perhaps in the paternal junk, by some poor 
Chinese child without playthings, and with- 
out caresses, thrown by chance like a use- 
less weed in the immense yellow swarm, 
miserable and hungry as herself, and whose 

23 


LIVES 


O F 


incomplete soul in departing, left behind 
no more trace than her own ? 

Then a frail paw was laid timidly upon 
me — oh ! with so much delicacy, so much 
discretion ! — and after looking at me a 
long time beseechingly, she decided to ven- 
ture upon my knee. Jumping there lightly 
she curled herself in a light, small mass, 
making herself small as possible and almost 
without weight, never taking her eyes from 
me. She lay a long time thus, much in my 
way, but I had not the heart to dislodge 
her, which I should doubtless have done 
had she been a gay pretty kitten in the 
bloom of kittenhood. As if in fear at my 
least movement, she watched me incessantly, 
not fearing that I should harm her — she 
was too intelligent to think me capable of 
that — but with an air that seemed to ask : 
w Is it true that I do not weary you, that I 
do not trouble you ? ” and then, her eyes 
growing still more tender and expressive, 
saying to mine very plainly : w On this 
2 4 


TWO 


CATS 


dismal autumn day, so depressing to the 
soul of cats, since we two are here so lonely, 
in this abode so strange, so unquiet, shaken 
and lost amid I know not what dangerous 
and endless space, can we not give to each 
other a little of that sweet thing, immaterial 
and beyond the power of death, which is 
called affection and which sometimes shows 
itself in a caress ? ” 


25 


LIVES 


O F 


♦ (VII)* 


S soon as the treaty of friendship was 



signed between this cat and my- 
self, anxieties arose within me concerning 
her future. What could I do with her ? 
Carry her to France over so many thou- 
sand miles and difficulties innumerable ? 
To be sure, my home would be for her the 
unhoped-for asylum where the short mys- 
terious dream of her little life would pass 
with least suffering and most peace. But 
I could not see, without forebodings, this 
sickly, illy-robed foreigner the fellow resi- 
dent of our superb Pussy White, so jealous, 
who would certainly drive her from the 


TWO 


CATS 


premises as soon as she appeared. No, that 
was impossible. 

On the other side, to abandon her at 
our next port of call, among chance new 
friends — that was equally impossible ; I 
could have done so had she been vigorous 
and beautiful, but this melancholy little 
creature, with her human eyes, held me to 
her by a profound pity. 


27 


LIVES 


O F 


*( V I I I )•* 


O UR intimacy, founded on mutual 
loneliness, constantly increased. 
Weeks and months passed, on the never 
resting seas, while all remained the same in 
the obscure corner of the ship where Pussy 
had chosen her abode. For us men who 
sail the seas there are always the strong 
winds that buffet us, the starry nights on 
deck, and the goings on shore in foreign 
ports — always some event to break the 
monotony of sea life. She, on the con- 
trary, knew nothing of the vast world over 
which her prison moved, nothing of her 
kindred, or of the sun, or of verdure, or of 
28 


TWO 


CATS 


shade. And, never going outside, she lived 
in the solitude of my narrow cabin ; it was 
a glacial place at times when the door 
swung open to the fierce wind sweeping 
the decks ; oftener it was a hot and stifling 
furnace, where Chinese incense burned be- 
fore the expatriated idols as if in a Bud- 
dhist temple. For companions in her mus- 
ings she had monsters in wood or bronze, 
fixed to the walls, and grinning with mali- 
cious laughter ; in the midst of a mass of 
relics of things sacred in her country, pil- 
laged from dwellings and temples, she 
wasted away, without air, among the silken 
hangings that she loved to tear with her 
restless little claws. 

As soon as I entered my cabin she 
would come forward with her soft welcom- 
ing cry of joy, springing like a jack in the 
box from behind some curtain, desk, or 
chest. If by chance I seated myself to 
write, she very slyly, very tenderly, seek- 
ing protection and caresses, would softly 

29 


LIVES 


O F 


take her place on my knees and follow the 
comings and goings of my pen, — some- 
times effacing, with an unintentional stroke 
of her paw, lines of whose tenor she dis- 
approved. 

The shocks, the pitchings of the ship in 
rough weather, the noise of our cannon, 
gave her great terror : at these times, she 
threw herself against the walls, spun around 
like a mad creature, after which she would 
stop breathless, and hide herself in the dark- 
est corner, with a terrified and sad expres- 
sion. 

Her cloistered youth resulted in an un- 
natural state of invalidism, becoming daily 
more and more pronounced. Her appe- 
tite continued normal, but she was emaci- 
ated, her face grew, if possible, more tri- 
angular, her ears pointed sharply and bat- 
like, her large golden eyes sought mine with 
an air of distress, uncomfortably humanlike, 
or with questionings on the problem of life, 
perhaps equally troubling and far more 
3 ° 


TWO 


CATS 


unanswerable to her little intelligence than 
to my own. 

She was very curious about outside mat- 
ters, despite her unaccountable determina- 
, tion never to cross the threshold of my 
door, and never failed to examine with ex- 
treme attention any new object brought to 
our common lodging, probably giving her 
confused impressions of the foreign ports 
where our ship called. In India, for ex- 
ample, I remember she was once deeply 
interested, even to the total neglect of her 
breakfast, in a bouquet of fragrant orchids, 
— so extraordinary for her who had never 
known garden or forest, never seen other 
than the withered or dead flowers in my 
bronze vases. As an offset to her rough 
and discolored fur, which at first sight gave 
her a gutter-cat air, she was finely formed, 
and the least movement of her delicate 
paws was of patrician grace. While watch- 
ing her, I sometimes fancied her some little 
enchanted princess, condemned by wicked 

3i 


LIVES 


O F 


fairies to share my solitude in this lowly 
guise; and I called to mind a story of 
the mother of the great Tchengiz-Khan, 
which an old Armenian priest of Constan- 
tinople, my teacher of the Turkish lan- 
guage, had given me to translate : 

44 The young princess Ulemalik-Kurekli, 
doomed before her birth to die if she be- 
held the light of day, lived shut up in an 
obscure dungeon. And she asked her ser- 
vants : 4 Is this what they call the world ? 
Tell me, is there anything else outside these 
walls ? is this tower in something ? 9 

44 4 No, princess, this is not the world : 
that is outside and very much larger. And 
there are also things they call stars, that 
they call sun and they call moon/ 

44 4 Oh ! ’ replied Ulemalik, 4 let me die, 
but let me see them ! * ” 


32 


TWO 


CATS 


*.( I X )•* 


I T was at the close of winter, one of the 
first warm days of March, that Pussy 
Chinese made her debut at my home in 
France. Pussy White still wore at that 
season her royal winter robe, and I had 
never seen her more imposing. The con- 
trast would be the more overwhelming for 
my poor favorite, lean, lank, with her 
faded fawn-colored fur looking as if moth- 
eaten. I felt myself much embarrassed 
when our man Sylvester, returning with my 
pet from the ship, lifted, with a half dis- 
dainful air, the cover of the basket where 
he had placed her, and I saw, in the midst 

33 


LIVES 


O F 


of the assembled family, my little Chinese 
friend creep tremblingly forth. 

Most deplorable was her first appearance. 
I felt the impression of the group in Aunt 
Clara’s simple exclamation : w Oh ! my 
friend, how homely she is ! ” 

Homely indeed ! And in what way, 
under what pretense could I present her 
to the magnificent Pussy White ? In utter 
helplessness I had her carried, for the time 
being, to an isolated granary, — that I might 
gain time to reflect on the situation. 


34 


TWO 


CATS 


*(X)* 



k HEIR first interview was certainly 


X terrible. It was unpremeditated, a 
few days after, in the kitchen (a locality 
of irresistible attractions, where the cats of 
the same household, do what one can to 
prevent, will some day meet). The ser- 
vants summoned me hastily and I ran to the 
battlefield, where, uttering unearthly yells, 
a shapeless package of fur and claws formed 
of their closely clinched little bodies, rolled 
and bounded, — shattering glasses, plates, 
and dishes, while tufts of white fur, gray 
fur, black fur, and fawn fur flew and floated 
everywhere. It was necessary to interfere 


35 


LIVES 


O F 


energetically and instantly : to separate them 
I threw upon them a whole carafe of water. 
I was at my wits’ end. 


TWO 


CATS 


*(XI)* 

B REATHLESS, scratched, and bleed- 
ing, her heart beating as if it must 
break, Pussy Gray was gathered to my 
breast, where she clung closely, growing 
more quiet in the consciousness of sweet 
security ; then she became less and less 
rigid and as limp and inert as if dying, 
which is a way cats have of showing entire 
confidence in one who holds them. Pussy 
White, seated thoughtful and gloomy in a 
corner, looked at us with surprised eyes, 
and a deduction from the view was formed 
in her little jealous brain ; that she, who 
from one year's end to the other had driven 

37 


LIVES 


O F 


from the neighboring walls all other cats, 
unwilling even to endure their presence, 
must acknowledge this ugly pagan as mine, 
since I held her so tenderly, so closely ; 
then it became necessary that she, Pussy 
White, should tolerate her presence in the 
mansion and trouble her no more. 

My surprise and admiration were great 
to see these two, an instant after, pass by 
each other, not merely with indifference 
but calmly, civilly, — and all was ended. 
During their lives they never quarreled 
again. 


38 


TWO 


CATS 


*• ( X I I ) ** 



k HE springtime of the following year ! 


X How pleasant my reminiscences of 
its sunny days. 

Very short as all seasons now seem, it 
was the last which held a charm for me, 
like the mysterious enchantment of child- 
hood’s days, passed in the same environ- 
ment of verdure and bloom, in the midst 
of flowers blooming anew in their annual 
ranks, the same jasmines, the same roses. 
After my campaigns I joyfully returned 
there, to forget other continents and the 
immense seas; again, as in my infancy, 
I limited the exterior world to the old 


39 


LIVES 


O F 


walls hung with vines and mosses, which 
bounded my rambles ; the distant lands 
where I have since lived seeming unreal 
as those of which I dreamed, having never 
seen. The far horizons fade ; they vanish 
imperceptibly and nothing is real to me save 
our mossy stones, our trees, our trellises, 
and our beloved white roses ! 

At that time, I had built in a corner of 
my mansion a Buddhist pagoda, the col- 
lected debris of original temples. From 
the large cases opened daily in the court- 
yard in the warm sunshine there arose 
that indefinable and mingled odor of China, 
from pedestals of columns, bas-reliefs of 
ceilings, carved altars, and mouldy old idols 
and vases. It was interesting and unique, 
this unpacking ; to watch these grotesque 
objects reappearing one by one, arranging 
themselves, as it were, on the grass or the 
mossy pavement, — all this assembly of 
monsters of far Asia, bearing on their faces 
the same frowns and grimaces they had 
40 


TWO 


CATS 


borne for ages. Occasionally my mother 
and Aunt Clara would come out to look 
at them, astonished at their overwhelm- 
ing ugliness. Pussy Gray was the most 
interested spectator of these unpackings ; 
recognizing her ocean surroundings, she 
sniffed all with confused memories of her 
native land ; afterward, habituated to dwell- 
ing so long in semi-darkness, she would 
crawl into the boxes and hide herself in 
the empty spaces, under the exotic straw 
still smelling of sandal-wood and musk. 

It was an exhilarating and beautiful 
springtime bird songs filling the air; and 
Pussy Gray thought it marvelous. Poor 
little recluse, grown up in the stifling ob- 
scurity of my rolling home ! Bright sun- 
light, balmy air, the vicinity of feline 
friends alike astonished and charmed her. 
She now made long and exhaustive ex- 
plorations of the courtyard and garden, 
smelling every blade of grass, every new 
plant ; in fact everything that sprang fresh 


LIVES 


O F 


and odorous from the awakened earth. 
These forms, these colors, old as the world, 
which plants unconsciously produce every 
succeeding spring, these immutable laws, 
perfectly and silently obeyed by unfolding 
leaf and bursting bud, were phenomena 
for her who had never known springtime 
or verdure. And Pussy White, formerly 
absolute and intolerant queen of the place, 
had deigned to share her domain with the 
forlorn stranger, leaving her to roam at will 
among the evergreens, the potted flowers, 
or along the promenade on the gray wall- 
top under the pendent boughs. Pussy 
Chinese was especially impressed by a min- 
iature lake, so closely interwoven with 
my infantile memories, which fascinated 
her for a long time. There, in the grass 
each day higher and more luxuriant, she 
crouched close to the earth, like a panther 
intent on his prey (doubtless inheriting this 
movement from her ancestors, Mongolian 
cats with uncultivated manners). She hid 
42 


TWO 


CATS 


behind the lilliputian rocks, buried herself 
beneath the vines like a little tiger in a 
miniature virgin forest. 

I found great pleasure in watching her 
goings and comings, her sudden haltings, 
her surprises ; when she realized that I was 
watching her, she in turn watched me, pos- 
ing in an attitude peculiarly her own ; — 
very graceful, but very like a Chinese belle, 
with a paw extended as if holding a fan, 
just as I have seen one holding an article 
raise coquettishly the little finger ; and her 
droll golden eyes grew infinitely expres- 
sive, “ speaking ” to mine. u Please permit 
me to amuse myself? Does it incommode 
you in the least ? Look ! I walk with 
lightness, I play with extreme carefulness, 
I go about with discretion among these 
beautiful green things that smell so sweetly, 
and this good air is so refreshing in this 
wide, free space ! And these other strange 
objects that I see in turn high over us, 
‘ Things they call stars, that they call sun, 

43 


LIVES 


O F 


and they call moon ! * Oh ! how differ- 
ent from our trembling lodging on the ship 
and how delightful to be here together in 
this happy place ! ” 

This home, so new to her, was equally 
for me the oldest, the most familiar of all 
places on the earth ; whose least details, 
whose feeblest blade of grass were known 
to me since the earliest and most impressi- 
ble days of my existence. So dear to me 
that I am bound to it with all my being, 
so dear that I love with a love akin to idola- 
try the old vines and shrubs which are there, 
the jasmine, the honeysuckles, and a certain 
dielytra rose, which every returning March 
unfolds its precocious leaves, gives the 
same April roses, fades in the June sun, then 
burns in August heat and seems to perish. 

And while Pussy Gray abandons herself 
to the joy of youth and springtime, I, on 
the contrary, knowing that all this will 
pass away, feel for the first time in my life, 
shadows like those of evening stealing over 
44 


TWO 


CATS 


my own life, — presages of the inexorable 
night, the morningless night of the final 
autumn, — never to be succeeded by spring. 

And with profound sadness in this court- 
yard bright with sunshine, I gaze upon the 
two dear ones, their silvery hair, their 
mourning robes — my mother and Aunt 
Clara, going and coming, stooping down as 
has been their wont for many springs, to 
discover what flower seeds had come up, or 
raising their heads to see the buds of honey- 
suckles and rose trees. And when their 
sombre robes vanished from my view, at 
the end of the green avenue, which is the 
vestibule of our family residence, I am 
forced to notice that their steps are slower 
and less firm. Oh, time, perhaps near, 
when in the unchanging green avenue I 
shall behold them no more. Can it be 
possible that time may arrive ? If ever they 
shall be gone I have the illusion that it will 
not be an entire departure, so long as I re- 
main there recalling their presence ; — that 

45 


LIVES 


O F 


in the quiet summer evenings I shall some- 
times see their spirits glide beneath the jas- 
mine ; that something of their existence 
will still live in the plants they have tended, 
and breathe from the falling honeysuckle, 
the old dielytra rose. 


46 


TWO 


CATS 


-(XI I I)* 


S INCE her life in open air, my favor- 
ite flourished visibly. The bare and 
unsightly spots in her rabbit-colored coat 
were covered with new glossy fur ; she was 
less thin, more careful of her little person, 
and bore no longer the appearance of a 
witch’s cat. My mother and Aunt Clara 
often stopped to speak to her, interested 
in her odd ways, her expressive eyes, and 
her soft responsive u Trr ! trr ! trr ! ” that 
she never failed to utter when addressed. 

ct Certainly,” they said, “ this Chinese 
pussy seems very happy with us ; no cat’s 
face could show greater content.” 

47 


LIVES 


O F 


A happy look, in fact ; even a look of 
gratitude to me, who had brought her to 
her new home. And the happiness of 
young animals is perfect, perhaps because 
they have not, like us, forebodings of the 
inevitable future. 

She passed deliciously dreamy days in 
most luxuriant idleness, extended on the 
warm tiles or the soft moss, enjoying the 
silence — somewhat depressing to me — of 
this abode where neither the contention 
of wind and wave or the terrible shock 
of cannon troubled her repose. She had 
reached the distant peaceful haven, the last 
port in her short life’s voyage, and rested 
happily unconscious of the end. 


48 



‘SHE PASSED DELICIOUSLY DREAMY DAYS 








TWO 


CATS 


♦ (XIV)* 


NE fine day, without intervention, 



V_>/ seized by some sudden whim, the 
indifference of Pussy White changed to a 
tender friendship. She came deliberately 
to Pussy Gray and rubbed her nose against 
her own affectionately, which is with her 
race the equivalent of a kiss. Sylvester, 
who was present at the performance, showed 
himself skeptical regarding its good intent. 
“ Did you see,” said I, “ the kiss of peace ? ” 
“ Oh no, sir ! ” he replied, in that tone of 
accomplished connoisseur, assumed when- 
ever any question arises concerning my 
cats, dogs, horses, or any other animals ; 


49 


LIVES 


O F 


u Oh no, sir ! it is simply that Pussy White 
wishes to ascertain if Pussy Gray has been 
stealing her meat.” 

He was mistaken for once nevertheless, 
— and from that hour they were fast friends. 
They could be seen sitting in the same 
chair, eating the same food, even from the 
same plate, and every morning running to 
exchange salutations, rubbing together the 
tips of their soft noses, one yellow, the 
other pink. 


50 


TWO 


CATS 


*(XV)* 

FTER this we said, “ The cats did 



Jl\. this or that.” They were an inti- 
mate and inseparable pair, taking counsel 
together, following each other in the least 
and most trivial actions of their lives ; and 
making their toilets together, licking each 
other with mutual interest. 

Pussy White maintained her position as 
the special cat of Aunt Clara, while the 
Chinese continued my faithful little friend, 
holding fast to her old habits of following 
me with her speaking eyes, and replying in 
her expressive w Trr-trr-trr,” whenever I 
spoke to her. Scarcely would I be seated 


LIVES 


O F 


before a light paw rested on me, as in the 
old evenings on the ship ; two questioning 
eyes sought mine, then a bound and she was 
on my knees, — slowly making her prepa- 
rations for a nap; plying her fore paws 
alternately, turning herself round to the 
right, then to the left, and usually finding 
the right position by the time I was ready 
to depart. 

What a mystery ! A soul’s mystery per- 
haps, this constant affection of an animal 
and its unchanging gratitude. 


5* 


TWO 


CATS 


-(XVI)* 


HEY were much spoiled, the two 



X cats ; admitted to the dining-room at 
meal times; often seated one on my right 
and the other on my left ; recalling to me, 
occasionally, their presence by a light stroke 
of the paw on my napkin, and watching 
for tit-bits that I fed them surreptitiously, 
like a guilty schoolboy, from the tip of my 


fork. 


In recording this, I still farther darken 
my reputation, which, it seems, is already 
reputed incorrect and eccentric. I can 
however criticise a certain member of the 
Academy, who, having done me the honor 


53 


LIVES 


O F 


of dining at my table, did not refrain from 
offering to our pussies, even in his own 
spoon, a little Chantilly cream. 


54 


TWO 


CATS 


•(XVII)* 


HE following summer was for Pussy 



X Gray a period of absolutely delicious 
life. With her originality and her foreign 
air, she had grown almost beautiful, so 
finely reclad in glossy fawn color. All 
around, in the cat world, in the gardens 
and on the roofs, the news had circulated 
of the presence of this piquant stranger; 
and candidates for her smiles were numer- 
ous ; they smirked and serenaded beneath 
her windows in the balmy nights filled with 
perfume of honeysuckle and rose. 

During September, the two cats experi- 


55 


LIVES 


O F 


enced, at almost the same time, the joy of 
motherhood. 

Pussy White, it is needless to relate, was 
already a well known matron. As to 
Pussy Gray, when her first moments of 
surprise had passed, she tenderly licked the 
precious tiny gray kitten, spotted and mot- 
tled like a tiger, — her only son. 


56 


TWO 


CATS 


♦ (XVIII)* 


HE reciprocal attachment of the two 



X families was touching ; the comical 
little Chinese and the little Angora, round 
as a powder puff, frolicking together, and 
nourished, washed, and watched by one or 
the other mother with an almost equal 
solicitude. 


57 


LIVES 


O F 


«(XIX)» 

I N the winter season pussy becomes pe- 
culiarly the hearthstone guest, constant 
companion of the fireside, sharing with 
us, before the flickering flames, vague mel- 
ancholies and endless reveries of the long 
twilights. 

Since the first frost Pussy Gray had lost 
all roughness of her mottled coat, and 
Pussy White had donned a most impos- 
ing cravat, a boa of snowy whiteness that 
framed her face like a Medici ruff. It is 
well known that in winter the cat attains 
its fullest perfection of flesh and fur. 
Their attachment grew as they warmed 
58 


TWO 


CATS 


themselves together by the fireside; they 
slept entire days in each other’s arms, on 
the cushions in the armchairs, rolled in a 
single ball where heads and tails were alike 
indistinguishable. 

Pussy Gray could never get sufficiently 
close to her friend. Returning from some 
scamper in open air, if she perceived the 
Angora sleeping before the fire, she softly, 
very softly approached her, as if about to 
spring upon a mouse ; the other, always 
nervous, whimsical, irritated at being dis- 
turbed, sometimes gave her a light cuff of 
disapproval. She never retaliated, the Chi- 
nese, but merely raising her little paw, as 
if quite ready to laugh, then saying to me 
from a corner of her eyes, “You must 
allow that she is rather cross ! But I don’t 
mind it at all, you may be sure ! ” Then, 
with redoubled precaution, she always at- 
tained her desired purpose, which was to 
lay herself completely upon the other, her 
head sunk in the silky snow, — and be- 

59 


LIVES 


O F 


fore sleeping she said to me, from half- 
closed eyes : M This is all I wanted ! Here 


I am ! ” 


60 


TWO 


CATS 


*(XX)* 


O H ! our winter’s evenings of that 
time ! In the most sheltered corner 
of the mansion, elsewhere closed and left 
silent and dark, was a small and warm par- 
lor facing the sun, the courtyard, and the 
gardens, where my mother and Aunt Clara 
sat beneath their hanging lamp, in their 
usual places where so many past and simi- 
lar winters had found them. And, usually, 
I was there also, that I might not lose an 
hour of their presence on earth and of my 
days at home near them. On the other 
side of the mansion, far from us, I aban- 
doned my study, leaving it dark and fireless 

61 


LIVES 


O F 


that I might simply pass my evenings in 
their dear company, within the cosy room, 
innermost sanctuary of our family life, the 
home dearest to us all. (No other spot 
has given me a fuller, a sweeter impres- 
sion of a nest ; nowhere have I warmed 
myself with more tranquil melancholy than 
before the blaze in its small fireplace.) 
The windows, whose blinds were never 
closed, so confident were we in our secu- 
rity, the glass door, almost too summer-like, 
opened upon the desolation of naked trees 
and vines, brown leaves, and despoiled trel- 
lises often silvered by pale moonlight. 
Not a sound reached us from the street, 
which was some rods distant, — and be- 
sides a very quiet one, its silence rarely 
broken save by the songs of sailors cele- 
brating, at long intervals, their safe returns. 
No, we had rather the sounds of the coun- 
try, whose nearness was felt beyond the 
gardens and old ramparts of the city; — 
in summer, immense concerts of frogs in 
62 


TWO 


CATS 


the marshes which surrounded us smooth 
as steppes, and the intermittent flutelike 
note of the owl; in the winter evenings of 
which I write, the shrill cry of the marsh 
bird, and above all, the long wail of the 
west wind coming from the sea. 

Upon the round table, covered with a 
gayly flowered cloth, which I have known 
all my life, my mother and aunt Clara 
placed their workbaskets, containing articles 
that I would fain designate w fondamen- 
tales,” if I dared employ that word which, 
in the present instance, will signify no- 
thing save to myself ; those trifles, now 
sacred relics, which hold in my eyes, in 
my memory, in my life, a supreme import- 
ance : embroidery scissors, heirlooms in 
the family, lent me rarely when a child, 
with manifold charges to carefulness, that 
I might amuse myself with paper cutting ; 
winders for thread, in rare colonial woods, 
brought long years ago from over the oceans 
by sailors, and giving material for deep 

63 


LIVES 


O F 


reveries; needlecases, thimbles, spectacles, 
and pocketbooks. How well I know and 
love every one of them, the trifles so pre- 
cious, spread out every evening for so 
many years on the gay old tablecloth, by 
the hands of my mother and Aunt Clara; 
after each distant voyage with what tender- 
ness I see them again and bid them my 
good-day of return ! In writing of them I 
have used the word w fondamentale,” so 
inappropriate I confess, but can only ex- 
plain it thus : if they were destroyed, if 
they ceased to appear in their unchanged 
positions, I should feel as if I had taken a 
long step nearer the annihilation of my be- 
ing, towards dust and oblivion. 

And when they shall be gone, my mo- 
ther and Aunt Clara, it seems to me that 
these precious little objects, religiously 
treasured after their departure, will recall 
their presence, will perhaps prolong their 
stay in our midst. 

The cats, naturally, remained usually in 
64 


TWO 


CATS 


our common room, — sleeping together, a 
warm, soft ball, upon some taboret or cush- 
ioned chair, the nearest to the lire. And 
their sudden awakenings, their musings, 
their droll ways, cheered our somewhat 
monotonous evenings. 

Once it was Pussy White who, seized 
by a desire to be in our closer company, 
leaped upon the table and sat gravely down 
upon the sewing work of Aunt Clara, turn- 
ing her back upon her mistress, after un- 
ceremoniously sweeping her plumy tail over 
her face ; afterwards remaining there, obsti- 
nately indiscreet, and gazing abstractedly at 
the flame of the lamp. Once in a night of 
tingling frost, so excitable to a cat’s nerves, 
we heard, in a near garden, an animated dis- 
cussion : u Miaou ! Miaraouraou ! ” Then 
from the mute fur ball, which slumbered 
so soundly, upsprang two heads, two pair 
of shining eyes. Again: u Miaraou ! Mia- 
raou ! ” The quarrel goes on ! The An- 
gora rose up resolutely, her fur bristling in 

65 


LIVES 


O F 


anger, and ran from door to door, seeking 
an exit as if called outside by some impera- 
tive duty of great importance : “No, no, 
Pussy,” said Aunt Clara, u believe me, there 
is no necessity for your interference ; they 
will settle their quarrel without your help ! ” 
And the Chinese, on the contrary, always 
calm and averse to perilous adventure, con- 
tented herself by glancing at me with a 
knowing air, evidently regarding her friend's 
movements as ridiculous, and asking me, 
“Am I not right in keeping away from 
this fracas ? ” 

A certain beatitude, profound and almost 
infantile, pervaded the silent little parlor 
where my mother and Aunt Clara sat at 
work. And if by turns I remembered, with 
a dull heart throb, having possessed an ori- 
ental soul, an African soul, and a number 
of other souls, of having indulged, under 
divers suns, in numberless fantasies and 
dreams, all that appeared to me as far dis- 
tant and forever finished. And this roving 
66 


TWO 


CATS 


past led me more thoroughly to enjoy the 
present hour, the side-scene in this inter- 
lude of my life, which is so unknown, so 
unsuspected, which would astonish many 
people, and perhaps make them smile. In 
all sincerity of purpose, I said to myself 
that nothing could again take me from my 
home, that nothing could be so precious as 
the peace of dwelling there, and finding 
again part of my first soul ; to feel around 
me, in this nest of my infancy, I know not 
what benignant protection against worth- 
lessness and death; to picture to myself 
through the window, in all the obscurity 
of dying foliage, beneath the winter moon, 
this court-yard which once held my entire 
world, which has remained the same all 
these years past, with its vines, its mimic 
rocks, its old walls, and which may perhaps 
resume its importance in my eyes, its former 
greatness, and repeople itself with the same 
dreams. Above all, I resolved that nothing 
in the wide world was worth the gentle bliss 

67 


LIVES 


O F 


of watching mother and Aunt Clara sew- 
ing at the round table, bending toward the 
bright flowered cloth their caps of black 
lace, their coils of silvery hair. 

Oh ! one evening I will recall. There 
was a scene, a drama among the cats ! 
Even now I cannot recall it without laugh- 
ter. 

It was a frosty night about Christmas 
time. In the deep silence we had heard 
passing above the roofs, through cold and 
cloudless skies, a flock of wild geese, emi- 
grating to other climates : a sound of harsh 
voices, very numerous, wailing not too har- 
moniously together and soon lost in the 
infinite regions of the sky. “ Do you hear ? 
Do you hear ? ” said Aunt Clara with a 
slight smile and an anxious look to banter 
me ; recalling the fact that in my childhood 
I was greatly alarmed by these nocturnal 
flights of birds. To hear their voices one 
should have a keen ear and listen in an 
otherwise silent place. 

68 


TWO 


CATS 


Our room then resumed its calm, — a 
calm so profound that I heard the complaint 
of the blazing wood on the hearth, and the 
regular breathing of our cats seated in the 
chimney corner. 

Suddenly, a certain large yellow gentle- 
man cat, held in horror by Pussy White, 
but persistently pursuing her with his decla- 
rations, appeared behind a window pane, 
showing in full relief against the background 
of dark foliage, looking at her with an im- 
pertinent and excited air and uttering a 
formidable “ Miaou 99 of provocation. Then 
she sprang up at the window like a panther, 
or a ball deftly thrown, and there, nose to 
nose, on each side of the pane, there was a 
useless battle, a volley of unpardonable in- 
sults poured out in shrill, coarse tones; 
blows of unsheathed claws given with em- 
phasis, vain scratchings across the glass, 
which made great noise and did nothing. 
Oh ! the fright of my mother and Aunt 
Clara, starting from their chairs at the first 

69 


LIVES 


O F 


alarm, — then their hearty laugh afterward, 
the ridiculousness of all this impetuous 
racket breaking in upon the intense silence, 
— and above all the visage of the visitor, 
the yellow cat, discomfited and breathless, 
whose eyes blazed so drolly behind the 
glass ! 

w Putting the pussies to bed ” was in those 
evenings, one of the important events, — 
u primordiales ” shall I call it ? — of our 
daily existence. They were never allowed, 
as are many other cats, to roam all night 
among the vines and flowers, beneath the 
stars, or contemplating the moon ; we held 
opinions upon that subject from which we 
never departed and made no compromises. 

The going to bed was merely shutting 
them up in an old granary at the end of the 
courtyard, almost hidden under a growth 
of vines and honeysuckles ; it was really in 
Sylvester’s quarters, beside his chamber ; so 
that every evening they said good-night to- 
gether, the cats and he. When each one 
70 



“ THERE WAS A USELESS BATTLE 





TWO 


CATS 


of these days — these unappreciated days 
now wept for — was ended, fallen in the 
abyss of time, Sylvester was called and my 
mother would say in a half solemn tone, as 
if fulfilling a religious duty, “ Sylvester, it 
is time for the cats to go to bed.” 

At the first words of this phrase, uttered 
in ever so low a voice, Pussy White pricked 
up her ears ; then knowing there was no 
mistake about it, jumped down from her 
cushion with an important though disturbed 
air, and ran to the door, that she might 
make her exit first, and on her own feet, 
unwilling to be carried, and determined to 
go of her own free will or not at all. The 
Chinese, on the contrary, endeavored to 
delay the inevitable change; reluctant to 
quit the warm room, she got down slyly, 
crouching very low on the carpet to be less 
in view, and glancing around to ascertain 
if any one had seen her, would hide under 
some article of furniture. The big Syl- 
vester, accustomed to these subterfuges, 

7i 


LIVES 


O F 


called with his childlike tone and smile : 
“Where are you, Pussy Gray? I know 
you are not far off.” Tenderly she re- 
sponded “ Trr ! Trr ! Trr ! ” knowing 
further pretense useless, and allowing her- 
self to be lifted to the broad shoulder of 
her friend. The procession finally took up 
the line of march : at the head, Pussy 
White, independent and superb; behind 
followed Sylvester who said w Good-night,” 
and who in one hand carried his lantern, 
and with the other grasped the long tail 
of Pussy Gray which hung pendent on his 
breast. The Angora usually proceeded 
resignedly to her proper sleeping place. 
Sometimes it happened, at certain phases 
of the moon, that vagabond fancies seized 
her, aspirations to play the truant and sleep 
at the angle of some roof, or at the summit 
of a solitary pear tree, in the bracing air of 
December, after having passed the entire 
day in an armchair by the fireside. On 
these occasions Sylvester soon reappeared 
72 


TWO 


CATS 


with a drolly despondent face, still holding 
the tail of Pussy Gray who clung close to 
his neck : saying u Again that Pussy White 
will not go to bed ! ” — “ Again ! Ah ! 
what actions ! ” replied Aunt Clara indig- 
nantly. And she stepped outside, herself, 
to try the effect of her authority, calling 
“ Pussy, Pussy ” in her dear, feeble voice 
which I can hear now, as it echoed then in 
the courtyard through the sonorous depth 
of the winter night. But no, Pussy obeyed 
not ; from the height of a tree, from the 
top of a wall she gazed about her with a 
nonchalant air, seated at her ease on her 
chosen throne, her furry robe making a 
white spot in the darkness and her eyes emit- 
ting tiny phosphorescent gleams. cc Pussy, 
Pussy ! Oh you naughty creature ! It is 
shameful, miss, such conduct, shameful ! ” 
Then out in her turn came my mother, 
shivering in the cold, and trying to make 
Aunt Clara come in. An instant after, I 
follow to bring both indoors. And then to 

73 


LIVES 


O F 


see ourselves gathered in the courtyard, in 
a freezing night, Sylvester also of the 
group and still holding his cat by the tail, 
and all this united authority set at defiance 
by a little cat perched high above us, gave 
an irresistible desire to laugh at ourselves, 
beginning with Aunt Clara, and in which 
we all joined. I have never believed there 
existed in the entire world two such blessed 
old ladies, — Oh ! how old, alas ! — capa- 
ble of such hearty laughter with the young ; 
knowing so well how to be amiable, how to 
be gay. Truly I have been happier with 
them than with any or all others; they 
always discovered in seemingly insignificant 
trifles an amusing or comical aspect. Pussy 
White decidedly had the best of the discus- 
sion ! We reentered, crestfallen and chilled, 
the little room too much cooled by the 
opened door, to gain our respective cham- 
bers by a series of stairways and sombre 
passages. And Aunt Clara, with a relapse 


74 


TWO 


CATS 


of anger, when reaching her threshold, said 
to me, u Good-night ; but, on the whole, 
what is your opinion of that cat ? ” 


75 


LIVES 


O F 


-(XXI)* 


HE life of a cat may extend over a 



X period of twelve to fifteen years, if 
no accident occurs. 

Our two pets lived to enjoy together the 
light and warmth of another delicious sum- 
mer ; they found again their days of blissful 
idleness, in company of the everlasting tor- 
toise, Suleima, whom the years forgot, be- 
tween the blooming cacti, on the sun-heated 
pavements, — or stretched on the old wall 
amidst the profusion of jasmines and roses. 
They had many kittens, raised with ten- 
der care and afterward advantageously dom- 
iciled in the neighborhood j those of the 


76 





IN COMPANY OF THE EVERLASTING TORTOISE 








TWO 


CATS 


Chinese were in great demand, being of a 
peculiar color and bearing distinctive race 
marks. 

They lived another winter and recom- 
menced their long naps in the chimney 
corner, their meditations before the chan- 
ging aspect of the flame or embers of our 
wood fire. 

But this was their last season of health 
and joy, and soon after, their decline began. 
In the succeeding spring some mysterious 
malady attacked their little bodies, which 
should have endured vigorous and sound 
for still some years. 

Pussy Chinese, first attacked, seemed 
stricken by some mental trouble, a som- 
bre melancholy, — regrets perhaps for her 
native Mongolia. Refusing both food and 
drink, she made long retreats to the wall 
top, lying there motionless for entire days ; 
replying only to our appeals by a sorrowful 
glance and plaintive u Meaou.” 

The Angora also, from the first warm 
77 


LIVES 


O F 


days, began to languish, and by April both 
were really ill. 

Doctors, called in consultation, gravely 
prescribed absurd medicines and impossible 
treatments. For one, pills morning and 
evening and poultices applied to the belly ! 
For the other, a hydropathic course, close 
shaving of the body, and a cold plunge bath 
twice daily ! Sylvester himself, who adored 
the pussies, who obeyed him as they would 
no one else, declared all this impossible. 
We then tried the efficacy of domestic 
remedies ; the mothers Michel were sum- 
moned, but their simple prescriptions were 
of no avail. 

They were going from us, our beloved 
and cherished pets, filling our hearts with 
great compassion, — -and neither the loveli- 
ness of spring nor its glory of returning 
sunshine could rouse them from the torpor 
of approaching death. 

One morning as I arrived from a trip to 
Paris, Sylvester, while receiving my valise, 
78 


TWO 


CATS 


said to me sadly, xc Sir, the Chinese is 
dead.” 

She had disappeared for three days, she 
so orderly, so domestic, who never left our 
premises. Doubtless, feeling her end near, 
she had fled, obedient to an impulse or 
sentiment of extreme modesty which leads 
some animals to hide themselves to die. 
“ She remained all the week,” said Sylves- 
ter, cc up on the high wall lying on the red 
jasmin vine, and would not come down 
to eat or drink ; but she always answered 
when we spoke to her, in such a little 
feeble voice ! 

Where then had she gone, poor Pussy 
Gray, to meet the terrible hour ? Perhaps, 
in her ignorance of the world, to some 
strange house, where she was not allowed 
to die in peace, but was tormented, driven 
out, — and afterwards cast on the dunghill. 
Truly, I would have chosen that she might 
die at her home ; my heart swelled a little 
at the remembrance of her strange human 

79 


LIVES 


O F 


glances, so beseeching, so indicative of that 
need of affection which she could not other- 
wise express, seeking my own eyes with 
mute interrogation forever unutterable. — 
Who knows what mysterious agonies rend 
the little, disturbed souls of the lower ani- 
mals in their dying hours ? 


80 


TWO 


CATS 


-(XXI I)* 


A S if a fatal spell had been cast upon 
our cats, Pussy White, also, seemed 
near her end. 

By fantasy of the dying, she had selected 
her last lodging in my dressing-room, — 
upon a certain lounge whose rose color 
doubtless pleased her. 

There we carried to her a little food, a 
little milk, which were alike untasted ; she 
looked at us whenever we entered, with 
kind eyes, glad to see us, and still purred 
feebly when caressed. 

Then, one pleasant morning, she also 
disappeared, and we thought she would re- 
turn no more. 

81 


LIVES 


O F 


(XXIII)* 



HE did return, however, and I recall 


nothing more sad than her reappear- 
ance. It was about three days after, in 
one of those delightful periods at the com- 
mencement of June, which shine and glow 
in the unclouded heavens, — deceivers with 
promises of eternal duration, woeful to be- 
ings born to die. Our courtyard displayed 
all its leaves, all its flowers, all its roses 
upon its walls, as in so many past Junes; 
the martinets, the swallows, exhilarated 
with light and life, darted about with songs 
of joy in the blue above us; there was a 
universal festival of things without Soul 
and gay animals unconscious of death. 


82 


TWO 


CATS 


Aunt Clara, walking there, watching the 
opening blossoms, called to me suddenly, 
and her voice showed that something un- 
usual had occurred. 

“Oh! come! look here. — Our poor 
Pussy has returned.” 

She was there indeed, reappearing as a 
wretched little phantom, emaciated, weak, 
her fur already discolored with earth ; — she 
was half dead. Who knows what emotion 
led her home : an afterthought, a lack of 
courage at the last hour, a longing to see 
us once more ! 

With extreme exertion she had sur- 
mounted the lower wall, so familiar, which 
she was wont to cross in two bounds, when 
she returned from her beat of police guard, 
to cuff some acquaintance, to correct some 
neighbor. Breathless from her supreme 
effort, she lay extended on the new grass 
at the margin of the mimic lake, bending 
her poor head to lap a mouthful of fresh 
water. And her imploring eyes called for 

83 


LIVES 


O F 


aid. “ Do you not see that I am dying ? 
Can you do nothing to help me live a little 
longer ? ” 

Presages of death everywhere, this fair 
June morning, beneath its resplendent sky : 
Aunt Clara, leaning over her suffering favor- 
ite, seemed to me suddenly, so old, feebler 
than ever before, ready also to go from us. 

We decided to carry Pussy White back 
to the dressing-room, and place her on the 
rose-colored lounge she herself had chosen 
the preceding week, and which had seemed 
to please her. I resolved to watch care- 
fully that she should not depart again, that 
at least her bones might rest in the earth of 
our courtyard, that she should not be thrown 
on some dunghill, — like that of my poor 
Chinese companion, whose anxious eyes 
still haunted me. I held her to my breast 
with careful tenderness, and, contrary to 
her habitude, she allowed herself to be car- 
ried, this time, in complete confidence, her 
drooping head leaning on my arm. 

84 


TWO 


CATS 


Upon the rose-colored lounge she strug- 
gled against death for three days, so great 
is a cat’s vitality. The sun shone on the 
mansion and the gardens around us. We 
continued to visit her often, and she always 
endeavored to rise to greet us with a grate- 
ful and pathetic air, her eyes telling as 
plainly as those of a human being the pre- 
sence and the distress of what we call the 
soul. 

One morning I found her dead, rigid, 
her open eyes glassy, expressionless, — a 
corpse, a thing to be hidden from view. 
Then I bade Sylvester make a grave in a 
terrace of the courtyard, at the foot of a 
tree. Whither had fled that which I had 
seen shine forth from her dying eyes ; the 
restless Spark within, whither had it gone ? 


85 


LIVES 


O F 


♦ (XXIV)* 



‘HE burial of Pussy White, in the 


X quiet courtyard, under the blue sky 
of June, in the full sunlight of two o’clock! 

At the chosen place Sylvester dug the 
grave, — then stopped, looking at the bot- 
tom of the excavation, and stooping to pick 
up something that surprised him. “ What 
is this,” said he, stirring the small white 
bones which he had discovered, — “ a rab- 
bit ? ” 

The bones of an animal, indeed ; those 
of my cat from Senegal, an old pussy, my 
companion in Africa, very much beloved 
long ago, that I had buried there a dozen 


86 


TWO 


CATS 


years before, and then forgotten, in the abyss 
where beings and things that disappear for- 
ever accumulate. And while looking at 
these bones mingled with the earth, these 
tiny legs like white sticks, this collection 
still suggesting what was once the back 
and tail of an animal, — there arose before 
me, with an inclination to smile and a 
heavy heart-throb, a scene well-nigh for- 
gotten, a certain occasion when I had seen 
this same posterior of a cat, clothed in agile 
muscles and in silky fur, fly before me 
comically, tail in air, in the very height of 
terror. 

It was one day when, with the obstinacy 
natural to her race, she had climbed again 
on a piece of furniture twenty times for- 
bidden, and had there broken a vase which 
I prized very highly. I had at first given 
her a cuff; then my temper rising, I fol- 
lowed it by a rather brutal kick. She, sur- 
prised only by the blow, realized by the 
succeeding kick that war was declared ; it 

87 


LIVES 


O F 


was then that she swiftly fled, her plumy 
tail in the air, and from her refuge beneath 
the sofa she turned around to give me a 
reproachful and distressed look, believing 
herself lost, betrayed, assassinated by him 
she loved, and to whose hands she had con- 
fided her fate; and as my eyes still were 
angry she uttered finally her cry of sur- 
render, of hopeless despair, that peculiar 
and sinister cry of animals that realize 
themselves on the verge of death. All my 
anger vanished ; I called her, caressed her, 
still trembling and panting, upon my knees. 
Oh ! the last agonized cry of an animal, 
be it that of the ox, drawn down to the 
abattoir, even that of the miserable rat held 
between the teeth of a bull-dog; that hope- 
less appeal, addressed to no one, which 
seems a protest addressed to nature itself, 
— an appeal to an unknown, impersonal 
mercy, pervading all space. 

Two or three bones sunken at the foot 
of a tree is all now remaining of the once 
88 


L.ofC. 


TWO 


CATS 


cherished creature that I recall so living 
and so droll. And her flesh, her little per- 
son, her attachment to me, her intense 
terror on a certain occasion, her precipitate 
flight, her plaintive reproach, all finally 
that encompassed these bones, — has be- 
come a little earth. When the hole was 
sufficiently deep, I went upstairs where all 
that remained of our beautiful Angora lay 
rigid on the rose-colored lounge. And in 
descending with my light burden, I found, 
in the courtyard, my mother and Aunt 
Clara seated on a bench in the shade, as- 
suming to be there by chance, and pretend- 
ing to converse unconcernedly : that we 
should thus assemble expressly for this bur- 
ial would seem rather ridiculous, and we 
perhaps should have smiled despite our 
grief. 

There never glowed a brighter day; never 
was balmier silence, unbroken save by the 
hum of insects; the garden was in full 
bloom, the rose-trees white with their blos- 

89 


LIVES 


O F 


soms ; the peace of the country brooded 
over the neighborhood, the martinets and 
swallows slept, the everlasting tortoise, 
most lively when the sun shone hotly, 
trotted aimlessly to and fro on the pave- 
ment. Everything was imbued with the 
melancholy of too tranquil skies, of a sea- 
son too monotonous, of the oppression of 
noonday. Against the fresh green verdure, 
the dazzling brightness of color, the two 
similar robes of my mother and Aunt Clara 
formed two intensely black spots. Their 
silvery heads were bowed down as if some- 
what weary of having seen and reseen so 
many times, almost eighty times, the de- 
ceitful renewal. Everything around them, 
trees, birds, insects, and flowers, seemed 
chanting the triumph of their perpetual 
resurrection, regardless of the fragile beings 
who listened, already agonized by the pre- 
sage of their inevitable end. 

I laid Pussy White in her grave, and 
the black and white fur disappeared under 
90 



I WAS GLAD . . . THAT SHE HAD NOT DIED ELSEWHERE 






TWO 


CATS 


a falling mass of earth. I was glad that I 
had succeeded in keeping her in her last 
days with us, that she had not died else- 
where like the other; at least her body 
would decay in our courtyard, where for so 
long a period she had laid down the law 
for all cats of the neighborhood, where she 
had idled away the summer hours on the 
vine-covered wall, and where on winter 
nights, at her capricious hour for retiring, 
her name had resounded so many times in 
the silence, called by the failing voice of 
Aunt Clara. 

It seemed to me that her death was the 
beginning of the end of the dwellers in 
our home; in my consciousness, this cat 
was bound like a long cherished plaything 
to the two well-beloved guardians of my 
hearthstone, seated there upon the bench, 
and to whom she had been a faithful com- 
panion in my absences afar. My sorrow 
was less for herself, inexplicable and uncer- 
tain little soul, than for her existence which 

9 1 


TWO 


CATS 


had just finished. It was like ten years of 
our own life that we had buried there in 
the earth. 


92 





































































































































































NOV 10 1900 


























































































